


In Her Hands

by GettingOverGreta



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Humor, Light BDSM, Occasional Feels, Oral Sex, the thinnest veneer of plots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 03:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17236523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettingOverGreta/pseuds/GettingOverGreta
Summary: Molly attempts to spice up her relationship with Sherlock after she realizes that Irene Adler has kept in touch with him.  Sherlock mostly cooperates with her efforts.





	In Her Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [o0katiekins0o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0katiekins0o/gifts).



> For katiekins, who requested a fic with a dominant Molly...uh, almost two years ago. I've never been a paragon of efficiency, alas. I hope this will do - I've never tried to write this kind of thing before. I hope you enjoy it! Also, this story does take place in the same universe as Advent, and Molly and Sherlock have been together for several months at this point.

Molly admired the purchases she’d made last weekend, perfectly aligned stockings and a faux leather corset (she’d considered real, but financially it was just too steep – Sherlock might be frivolous with his money, but she could never bear it). She rather liked the effect of the stockings and heels – even if they hurt her feet a bit, her bum looked positively spectacular, and she was sure Sherlock would think the same. The silk rose printed underwear with little side-ties didn’t exactly match, but she already had them and thought they were cute and convenient. She’d had her makeup done, her eyes played up with liner and cheeks lightly contoured, before getting sprayed with what she assumed was some sort of industrial sealant to keep it all in place. She had the lipstick to add, not the bold red she expected, but a warm nude that put even greater accent on her eyes.

She’d been reading up on the whole situation. Not that her sex life with Sherlock needed spicing up, in her opinion, but last week she’d been watching some telly while Sherlock was in the shower. He’d left his mobile sitting on the desk, and she heard _that_ ring tone behind her. Molly had instantly remembered that awful Christmas party, only slightly redeemed by the shock of Sherlock’s apology and a surprisingly gentle kiss to her cheek. That ring tone wasn’t going to worm its way back into her life, and if this was something Sherlock craved, then Molly would be the one to provide it.

That Christmas was years ago, of course, and it boggled her mind to think of how their relationship had evolved since then. Keeping his secrets and becoming an increasingly important part of his life, her heart shattered and rebuilt by that same, eccentric, brilliant, and periodically ridiculous man.

Molly blinked and wondered if she had quickly warmed to the idea since it was essentially laying down a lot of boundaries and literally spanking him if he failed.

Maybe not actually spanking. That didn’t exactly tickle her fancy (although she wasn’t above grabbing the occasional handful of Sherlock’s arse). The riding crop, however, looked quite smashing in her hands.

She heard Sherlock’s light step as he bounced up the stairs to 221B. He’d just solved a rather brilliant murder and he’d be filled with energy. Molly was fully prepared to use that to her advantage.

Sherlock threw open the door. “Molly, you wouldn’t have believed...” He froze in the doorway, taking in the scene before him.

“Really, Mr. Holmes. It’s impolite not to greet people when you enter a room.” She stood up straight, tapping the crop against her thigh. 

Sherlock’s mouth quirked into a smile, which wasn’t exactly the effect Molly was hoping for when she’d put on this getup. “I really hope you didn’t Google that, or Mycroft will have some very awkward gifts for us next Christmas,” he said playfully.

“You think this is funny?” Molly said archly, folding her arms across her chest.

“Certainly not,” Sherlock replied, tugging off his gloves. “It’s quite fetching.”

“Then you should show me the proper respect, don’t you think?”

“Quite right. Excuse me, my lady, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” Sherlock bowed his head politely, and went about the business of pulling off his coat and scarf.

_My lady._ Molly liked that. (Also it suggested Sherlock might have been paying attention during Game of Thrones after all.) “I might excuse you. If you’re very, very good.”

Sherlock hung his coat up and turned to face her. “And how shall I be good, my lady?” His eyes gleamed with mischief, and Molly had a brief moment where her mind went completely blank, as if the sheer number of possibilities shorted out her brain. No, focus, Molly.

“You can start by taking off your clothes,” Molly said, forcing ice into her voice. “In the bedroom, of course. I don’t want you making a mess in my living room.” His mouth opened – apparently taken aback by her abruptness – but then he thought better of it, and turned to make his way to the bedroom instead.

Molly followed, watching him slide off his jacket, draping it over the valet in the corner until he removes his trousers as well. He reassembled the suit on a hanger, then removed his shirt, socks, and finally his pants. He made an elegant show of putting them in the hamper, and stood before her at attention.

“Will this do?” He asked, with the slightest edge of defiance.

“Quite satisfactory,” Molly replied. She walked around, looking him over like a prized piece of livestock. “What’s this, Mr. Holmes? Damaging my property?” She tapped at a purple bruise on his thigh.

“Overeager suspect,” Sherlock replied. “He kicked rather hard, but he’s not a problem anymore.” Molly drew a circle around the bruise with the crop, watching a small hitch in his breath.

“You’re mine, Sherlock. Such disrespect, letting anyone else leave their mark on you.” She flicked at his nipple with a fingernail, watching as goosebumps rose over his skin. He might be getting chilly, she supposed, but considering his history as a notorious blanket thief, she wasn’t feeling that sympathetic.

“Perhaps I should be punished for it,” Sherlock said. “I trust you can handle that.” The defiance in his eyes turned smug, and Molly realized that he didn’t think she’d be properly good at this. She snapped the riding crop at his other thigh, making him jump and gasp.

“There. Now you’ll be symmetrical.” She smiled up at him, noticing his breath quicken. He hadn’t expected that from her, and the knowledge was surprisingly delicious. Maybe that was how he felt after a successful deduction. “How else have you misbehaved today, Mr. Holmes?”

“I was rude, my lady. The forensics tech was appalling and his mistakes were going to make your job more difficult.” Molly gave him a tap on the bum for that, but did weaken her strike since it was meant to benefit her.

“What else?” She stroked the leather crop along his spine, watched him shiver lightly.

“Nothing else.” A smile played at his lips as she came to stand in front of him again. He was plainly lying, his body aroused but his eyes suggesting merriment again.

“I don’t believe you,” Molly replied. “Tell the truth, Mr. Holmes. I would hate to have to punish you more. I prefer the rewards.” She dragged the crop down his chest to his belly, pausing just above the dark hair around his cock. Sherlock’s eyes darted down towards the crop briefly and his tongue flicked out lightly over his lips.

“I masturbated in the shower this morning, my lady, after you left for work. I know I could have had you but I was too lazy to get up earlier.” Molly’s mind was briefly distracted by the image of Sherlock leaning against the shower wall, cock in hand as he furiously stroked himself. Then she remembered that this was definitely meant to be misbehavior.

“So you could have pleased me but you pleased yourself instead.” Molly smiled. “I think you owe me, Mr. Holmes. On your knees, please.” Sherlock lowered himself to the floor, hands cheekily folded behind his head in surrender. She moved to stand with her back against the wall, and beckoned him forward. Sherlock frowned, making to stand up again.

“No,” Molly ordered. “You can crawl.” Sherlock moved towards her with more grace than she expected, even on hands and knees he remained oddly elegant. He knelt in front of her again, resting lightly on his heels. Molly untied the delicate silk panty beneath her corset, and cast it to the floor. “Pick it up. Without your hands.” Sherlock obeyed, dipping his head and catching the slip of fabric in his teeth.

“You know where it belongs,” Molly cooed. She allowed Sherlock a slight eyeroll as he crawled to the hamper and nudged it open with his nose. “So you do know where it is,” she said playfully. “Hurry up now, I want what you owe me.” She tapped the spot in front of her with the crop. Sherlock made his way back, stalking like a big cat, and posed before her again.

“What is it that you wish, my lady?” Sherlock asked, now trying on a more innocent expression. He looked lovely, Molly thought, his cock showing decided interest in the proceedings as his dark curls tumbled into his eyes. Unfortunately that was going to have to wait.

“Make me come,” Molly said, “But since you were so naughty with your hands this morning, you may not use them.”

“With pleasure, my lady.” She inched her feet apart, generously giving him room to work, but Sherlock began by nuzzling along the crease of her thigh, pressing tender kisses below her navel and on her mound. He breathed in her scent, his eyes oddly reverent. Then he plunged forward, dipping his tongue into her slit, and drinking deeply. He knew exactly how she liked it (she didn’t think there was a flat surface in the flat that hadn’t been christened in this particular way) but the position and loss of his hands seemed to temporarily throw him for a loop. Molly thought she’d help him out a bit. She lifted a leg and draped it over his shoulder, groaning as he laved her clit with stroke after stroke. His head bobbed as he swept his tongue over her, as furious in his devotion as he had ever been. Her standing leg ached – those stupid shoes – and her fingers scrabbled against the wall as every sensation brought her closer to the edge. He sucked her clit between his plump lips, flicking his tongue over her and finally, the throbbing and aching spiraled into an overwhelming wave of pleasure, Molly making sobbing sounds through the release. She let her leg fall to the floor, trembling from the brief, blissful loss of control. She looked down at Sherlock, his lips and chin wet with her fluids.

“Are we finished? I trust that took care of whatever absurd _Fifty Shades of Grey_ fantasies you’ve been having,” Sherlock said coolly.

Molly gasped, nearly moving to slap him – and then she froze. Yes, he was sometimes a brat, but this seemed like he _wanted_ her to slap him.

Well. She wasn’t going to stand for that.

“I decide if you get punished, Sherlock. You don’t decide for me what you deserve.” Molly swallowed, knowing the mask was faltering a bit. “You’re far too harsh to yourself.” This was a conversation that they should have had ages ago, playing out in the most unexpected place. There wasn’t even a corpse present.

“You’re right.” Sherlock’s gaze softened. “But I’m safe in your hands, my lady.” He lowered his eyes, then bowed his head. It was the most concession she’d ever seen him give.

“Always,” Molly whispered, then pulled away, slipping back into character as she kicked off the hateful shoes. Following through was important, from what she’d read. “Get on the bed. I’m going to fuck you properly now, Mr. Holmes. I don’t recommend coming before I do, or you’ll - you’ll have to clean it up.” Sherlock dipped his head in quiet submission, and mostly complied...except that he laid down on his front.

“On your back,” Molly ordered, with a firm slap to his bum. Maybe the spanking would be - _no, focus._ “Although it would be fun to try it that way sometime. Arms up,” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at that, but he obeyed, letting Molly snap handcuffs into place.

“Hardly necessary, my lady. But quite sufficient.” His gaze flicked to his growing erection, stirring again with a bit of provocation. “I’d have been happy just to hold on, thank you.”

Molly lightly stroked her hand along his flank, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. “Hmmm. I don’t think I can count on that, Sherlock. You’ve been far too naughty this evening,” she replied, dragging her hands over his collarbones. He shivered and she had the odd curiosity about whether he’d like it if she choked him – although possibly it wouldn’t be that different from his day job and thus less than fun.

“I might,” Sherlock said suddenly, “But only because you haven’t attempted to strangle me at any previous opportunity. That’s quite rare.” Molly’s eyes widened, and the side of his lips quirked into a smile.

“No more deducing. Or I’ll have to gag you and that would be an awful shame.” She straddled him, grinding against his thick cock as she unhooked her corset and tossed it to the floor. He felt so good between her thighs, and Molly idly thought that she could make herself come again like this, rocking and rubbing.

Unexpectedly, she had an image of how it would look, rutting against him till he came, spilling helplessly over his belly and chest. Well, she’d said she would fuck him, she hadn’t been particularly specific about the mechanics. Molly rolled her hips, moaning and leaning forward, nipping at his collarbone. His cock slicked through her wetness and he thrust up against her, grunting with effort or frustration – just now she didn’t care which it was. As sensitive as she was, she only needed a few more flicks of her hips before her pleasure mounted and reached a new peak that made her cry out. Molly nearly collapsed against Sherlock, panting as her sex pulsed with aftershocks. She flicked at his nipple with her tongue, feeling him jerk beneath her.

“I suppose you’ve been good enough,” Molly cooed to him, enjoying the desperate hunger in his face. She teased him with open-mouthed kisses along his torso, nipping and licking at every scar and mole, until she reached the plump, furiously red head of his cock. She barely had to take him into her mouth before he came, his whole body straining with the effort. Molly stroked his hip as she reached for a tissue, spitting into it as she slipped out of the bed on trembling legs. She untied the scarf, kissing his wrists, before stepping out to the bathroom. She returned with a flannel to clean him off, and then curled up in the bed with him, enjoying the way he eagerly leaned into her, halfway covering her with his sprawling form.

“This was certainly an interesting thing to learn about you, my lady,” Sherlock murmured, nuzzling into her neck.

“About me?” Molly replied, wrinkling her nose. “Sherlock, this was all about you. What you like.”

“Me?” Sherlock pulled away slightly. “This was fun, Molly, but hardly a major interest.”

“But what about – her? The Woman?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “We had sex, a single encounter. We didn’t get into that. Well, not to this degree.”

“But she’s a dominatrix!”

“Yes, and you’re a pathologist, and not once have we role-played necrophilia.” Sherlock kissed the top of her head. “I really hope you don’t want to try that.”

“But – she still texts you. I know she’s not dead.” Molly hid her face against his chest. “I know you love me. But people can love and forget.”

“I assume you didn’t read the text, since you do pride yourself on self-control.” Sherlock lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to the blue veins inside her wrist. “She texted me to congratulate me after she saw that ghastly story the Sun ran at a newsstand. She thought we were a lovely couple. And then made a very salacious suggestion she can’t carry through on since _her wife_ probably wouldn’t appreciate it.”

Molly wriggled into a position where she could see the gentle smile that Sherlock seemed to reserve just for her. “Oh,” she said in a small voice. “I suppose I overreacted then. But I quite enjoyed some of it.”

He shrugged, giving her bum a gentle squeeze. “So did I. If your overreactions end up like this, please feel free to be wildly overdramatic more often.”

“Fairly certain that’s your area, Sherlock.”

“It is, isn’t it?” The soft smile turned rather mischievous, in a way that made Molly’s stomach do a flip. “Just wait, because at some point we will have an extensive chat about why you were entirely unsurprised to learn that Ms. Adler is still alive, never mind that she keeps in touch. And I have at least two more pairs of handcuffs hidden in this flat that you haven’t found yet.”

Molly felt her heart start to race anew, and decided that a bit of spice was something she never knew she needed.


End file.
